


Recklessness

by ActuallyMe



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, This is just kind of sad?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMe/pseuds/ActuallyMe
Summary: The Doctor gets mad at Yaz.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47
Collections: Sloshed Saturday





	Recklessness

**Author's Note:**

> IDK, I just want them to talk.

“You’re mad at me.” It’s a question as much as it’s a statement. Yaz swings her feet and drops her gaze to the TARDIS floor to avoid the Doctor’s eyes. She’s ashamed, angry that she’s ashamed, and annoyed that the Doctor makes her feel like a schoolgirl who’s been caught out.

For a while, the Doctor says nothing and Yaz stews in the silence. Of course, the Doctor isn’t going to talk to her about this. She’s just going to mope and ignore her. Maybe that’s not fair. What she did today… that was pretty reckless. Yaz knows that. She knew it at the time, but she was so desperate to help. Sure, pretending to be the Doctor in front of a firing squad wasn’t the smartest thing, but she’d been trying to protect her! The Doctor had swooped in to rescue her, which was expected. What was less expected was the stony silence.

So maybe Yaz wants a little attention. Maybe she wants the centre of her universe to notice her, admire her, and she’s willing to do stupid, reckless things for that to happen. Maybe that’s not it, either. She had thought the Doctor dead, and then she came back, but not really. When the Doctor returned from wherever it was she’d disappeared to, Yaz had jumped at the chance to be with her. Travel was a bonus, really. But the Doctor’s never returned, not the way she was before. She’s left a piece of herself behind. This person, this new Doctor, she lacks warmth. She’s all hard edges and mercilessness and emptiness. She’s harder, less tactile—not that she was affectionate before—and more likely to ignore Yaz in favour of their adventures.

“I’m taking you home,” the Doctor finally says. 

Yaz’s jaw hangs open before she finally finds words. “Why?”

“You know why, Yaz.” The Doctor is already flying around the TARDIS controls and, presumably, setting a course for Sheffield, working around Yaz as if she’s not sitting right on the controls.

She jumps off the console and plants her hands on her hips. “You don’t get to do this,” she says, radiating defiance. This isn’t fair, but Yaz doesn’t say that.

The Doctor’s arms cross against her chest. “I can do whatever I want. If you aren’t going to follow my rules, then you don’t get to travel with me.”

“Rules? What rules? You certainly don’t follow any rules. You tell us to be careful, to keep out of harm’s way, but when have you ever been careful?”

Yaz didn’t think it was possible, but the Doctor’s eyes harden. “It’s different. I’m not human.”

“Fine, you’re an alien, but even aliens die, Doctor.” Yaz knows this because she’s seen it. She’s seen aliens die, and even if the woman in front of her isn’t human, she’s still a person.

“Not me,” the Doctor says. If Yaz were being generous, she would say it comes out sad. Yaz is not being generous.

“You’re so arrogant.”

“It’s not arrogance!” The Doctor explodes. Yaz draws back. Then, more quietly, “Yaz, I can’t die. I’m immortal, or near enough.” She says it like it hurts.

“You’re what?” Yaz doesn’t believe her for one second. Immortal? “Like the weird finger guy?”

“No! Maybe? I don’t know. That’s not the point, Yaz. The point is, I don’t know if I can die, like, permanently die, but you? You can. You’re so fragile, and you can’t be so careless with yourself.”

Yaz is too hung up on the immortal thing. “But your people died. The Master killed them. They died.” As if repeating it will make it better. The Doctor flinches with each sentence.

“They… they’re not my people. Not in the traditional sense.”

Yaz throws her hands up. “Doctor, what does that even mean?”

The Doctor’s hands rake through her hair. There’s a war raging behind her eyes.

“This isn’t about me,” 

“Yes, it is. I just want—” Yaz shuts her mouth. 

“What do you want, Yaz?” There’s steel in the Doctor’s voice, but a softness in her eyes that makes Yaz hope.

“I miss you.” The Doctor raises an eyebrow and Yaz scoffs. “Never mind.”

“What do you mean, you miss me? I’m right here.” She sounds incredulous, and Yaz snaps.

“No, you’re not. Ever since you came back, you’ve been different.” She loses steam halfway through. “You’re not you anymore. You’re different,” she finishes lamely.

The Doctor looks at the ceiling and mutters something in a language that the TARDIS doesn’t bother translating for Yaz. Then she looks at Yaz, and says, “I were in prison.”

Yaz blinks. What? 

“I were in a Judoon prison for maybe three years. I’m not sure. Time went strange. It warped. It lasted too long. I came back before then for you. Somewhere, out there, I’m still in prison.” She goes quiet for a moment. Before Yaz can interrupt, the Doctor rubs the back of her hand against her eye. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen the Doctor cry before. “Before that, my whole people were massacred, and it were my doing. And before that, I found out they weren’t my people, not the vast majority of them. They used me.” The Doctor’s breaths turn laboured. 

It’s a lot of information, and Yaz is more confused than she was to begin with, but that’s not what registers. The Doctor is in pain. She can see it in the Doctor’s furrowed brow and the way her hand clutches her chest and her glistening tears on her pale cheek.

“Doctor?” Yaz hesitates before letting her hand rest on the Doctor’s shoulder. The Doctor doesn’t turn away. “Please let me help.”

“I can’t lose you too.” Her voice breaks. “I’ve lost everything, and I can’t lose you, too.”

“I’m right here,” Yaz says, taking the plunge and putting her arm around the Doctor. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” She murmurs into the Doctor’s ear. Her lips catch against the Doctor’s earring and the Doctor freezes before melting against her. “I’m sorry.”

The Doctor is shaking, maybe she’s crying, but it doesn’t matter. Yaz isn’t leaving. She’s never leaving.

“You can’t promise that!”

Yaz furrows her brow. “Can’t promise what?”

“That you’re never leaving.”

“I didn’t say that.” But she did think it.

The Doctor pulls away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… sorry.”

“What, can you read minds now?” Yaz chuckles to dispel some of the awkwardness. When the Doctor doesn’t answer, Yaz stands back. “Wait, really?”

“I’m a touch-telepath,” the Doctor admits. “I didn’t mean to pry, but you were projecting really loud, and you can’t promise that you’re never leaving.” Her face crumples with dismay and she collapses on the stairs. “You can’t promise you’re never leaving because everyone does. I get you killed, or you get sucked into parallel universes, or I have to erase your memories to save your lives or you just leave. People leave, too.”

Yaz sits beside the Doctor. It’s a lot. She has learned more about the Doctor’s past in the last few minutes than she has the entire time she’s known her. But what do pasts matter anyway? The Doctor’s past is nothing compared to the steadiness of her hands when she fixes the TARDIS, or the way she looks at Yaz when she thinks Yaz isn’t looking. Yaz doesn’t need the Doctor’s past. She just wants her present and her future. She puts in her hand over the Doctor’s.

“I’m not leaving.”

The Doctor doesn’t reply, but her shoulders stop shaking and she leans against Yaz.

They don’t speak about the Doctor’s immortality. They don’t speak about how Yaz almost died today. In fact, they don’t speak at all. They just hold each other and listen to the TARDIS move through the void.


End file.
